


The Perks of Being Injured

by songofhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12x07 coda, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also crowley is angsty, but it's not graphic, but there's fluff too, crowley is injured
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8757562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: After fighting Lucifer, Crowley's injuries are too severe for even his demonic healing factor to keep up with. Thankfully, Dean is more than willing to patch him up, which leaves Crowley at a loss. He feels that Dean has made it perfectly clear as of late that he doesn't care about him, but now he doesn't know what to think.Post 12x07Request: Dean tending to Crowley's wounds especially after that last battle.





	

Being a demon had its perks. Telekinesis, teleportation, strength, all those party tricks that were fun to play around with. Healing faster was also a plus, along with the stamina. But the hits he took still hurt like hell. Especially when they were delivered by Satan himself. And the worse the injury was, the longer it would take to heal. He’d be hurting for a couple days, at least.

“Where’s Crowley?” Dean’s voice echoed back to him as he neared the stage. He knew better now than to think that was concern. No, that tone had to be something else. Maybe hoping he was dead, if he even cared that much.

“Right here.” He stepped out onto the stage, noticing that both the Winchesters’ eyes widened at the sight of him. He hadn’t looked in a mirror, but if he looked half as bad as he felt, he supposed he could understand their expressions. His gaze fell on the form of Vince Vincente. “What’d I miss?”

“Lucifer burnt through the vessel,” Sam answered bitterly. “He’s gone.”

“Lovely,” he sighed.

“Let’s get out of here before the cops show up,” Dean suggested

Crowley fell into step beside Castiel as they walked out the door. “Well that was fun. I vote we do that again never.”

“For once I agree with you. Though I believe the likelihood is-”

“Oh, don’t go crushing all my hopes and dreams with facts. Let me at least make sure I have all my limbs attached first.”

Castiel looked at him sideways. “You don’t appear to be missing any.”

He gave the angel a sarcastic smile. “Thanks for the confirmation.”

They came to a stop beside the Impala as Dean walked around to throw his Enochian handcuffs into the trunk. “You okay?” he asked as he walked back over to them.

Crowley kept his face expressionless as he glanced at Castiel to answer, knowing that Dean wasn’t talking to him. Sure, he had gotten the shit beat out of him, but Castiel had been smacked around a few times, too. And regardless of the differences in their injuries, he knew who Dean would be concerned about, and it certainly wasn’t him.

Of course, he had hoped differently at one point. But then Dean had gone off to die without saying two words (or even looking at) him. He had been in that mess with the rest of them, risked his life with the rest of them, but when it came down to it, nothing. And then who was the last person to find out that Dean was alive? And not even through Dean; he had to find out through Castiel, when the angel casually mentioned that he was going to call the supposedly-dead hunter. He had fought with them, and what was his reward? Being ignored. So, why would this time be any different?

“Well, I gotta hand it to you.” Crowley looked up in surprise to see that Dean’s eyes were fixed on him. “You said you were gonna draw Lucifer’s fire, and you drew some serious fire.”

Wow. In Dean-speak that was almost a thank you. And the look on his face was… No, he wasn’t letting his mind go there.

“Oh, it was a grand success,” he drawled.

Dean raised his eyebrows, tilting his head to get a better look at his injuries. Crowley grimaced, not used to this kind of scrutinization, and he had been burned by Dean too many times to let himself think about what it might mean. So he tried to focus on the conversation, even though his eyes kept flickering back to the hunter.

“So now what?” Castiel wondered.

“We’re back to square one,” Crowley sighed.

Dean’s eyes moved back to him, once again seeming to inspect his injuries from a distance that was just close enough to make Crowley wish that Dean would just take a step in one direction or the other. “We need to get you patched up,” he finally said.

Crowley raised his eyebrows slightly. That was a mistake. It hurt. So he decided against the objection he was about to make and remained silent.

“I saw a motel around the corner,” Dean continued. “We can crash there for the night.”

“Works for me,” Sam muttered, his eyes locking on a bar a few buildings down. “I’m gonna grab a drink first. I’ll meet you there.”

He wandered off in the direction of the bar and Dean’s eyes followed him for a moment before he turned to Castiel. “Keep him company.”

Castiel nodded before following after Sam, leaving Crowley alone with Dean.

“Come on, let’s get you patched up.” He walked around to get in the car while Crowley climbed in on the passenger’s side. He didn’t say anything, staring out the side window the entirety of the short car ride, despite temptation to do otherwise.

At least the look on the face of the guy working the front desk was an amusing distraction from the hunter. “Um… what happened?”

“Oh, uh, concert.” Dean shrugged with a crooked grin. “You know how they can be.”

Crowley scoffed as the guy relaxed and gave them their room key.

When they reached the room, Crowley decided to not dwell on the memories that being in a hotel room with Dean brought up, instead focusing on making himself as comfortable as he could in his current state. He kicked off his shoes and socks, draped his coat and suit jacket over a chair, and pulled off his tie. He was doing his best to pretend that he was alone, something that was completely ruined when he turned around to see Dean watching him.

He barely stopped himself from raising his eyebrows again. “Enjoying the show?”

Dean looked down, and… was he blushing, or was Crowley just starting to see red blotches that coincidentally fell on Dean’s cheeks? “Why don’t you lay down? I’ll get the first aid kit.”

He watched Dean turn away before he made his way over to the bed, gingerly laying down on top of the covers. He didn’t know what was going on anymore. Everything Dean was doing made it seem as though he cared, but he had made it perfectly clear in the past that that was not the case. His head was starting to spin with these mixed signals, and the uncertainty of the situation made him uneasy.

“You can relax, Crowley,” Dean said as he approached the bed. “I’m not gonna hurt you, you know.”

“Do I?” he muttered to himself as he tried to relax a little. Not because Dean told him to, but because tensing up right now hurt.

“I would hope you do.” He set the first aid kit down on the table and lifted up a damp cloth he had gotten from the bathroom, gently dabbing at his face. “Damn…. You really don’t look so hot.”

“There goes my shot at winning Miss America.”

Dean chuckled. “Hate to break it to you, but I don’t think you had one in the first place.”

“You really know how to kick a guy when he’s down.”

He grinned, but didn’t say anything for a minute. As he continued cleaning Crowley’s wounds, his eyes slowly traveled down to his shirt. “Um… is it just your face, or…?”

“No. Lucifer didn’t seem to particularly care where he hit me, so long as it hurt. The worst of it is on my face, though; so, unless you’re just desperate for a strip tease…”

“Why does it seem like you don’t want me helping you?” Dean demanded, his hand dropping to his side.

“Maybe… because I don’t?” Crowley suggested helpfully.

Dean sighed. “Let me guess, because you don’t like feeling weak?”

Well, that wasn’t exactly it, but it was one of the sub-reasons, so Crowley just shrugged.

“Crowley, you just went up against _Lucifer._ Anyone who does that is definitely not weak. I’m doing this because you earned it, not because I’m taking pity on you.”

Crowley was silent for a few seconds. “At least your pick-me-up talks are better than your pep-talks.”

“I try. So… maybe you should take your shirt off, so I can get to the rest of the injuries.”

“After you’re done with the ones on my face. It’s all on my back, anyway.”

Dean nodded and got back to work.

It wasn’t as though he had any qualms at the thought of Dean seeing him shirtless… or in less, for that matter. But he had let himself become too vulnerable with Dean, and now the more barriers he could put up, the better.

“Did you even try to teleport away?” Dean asked after a minute.

“I thought that would be a little counterproductive. The point was to buy you two time to be heroes, was it not?”

“Yeah, I suppose so…. We weren’t the only heroes tonight, though.”

Crowley snorted. “All I did was take a beating.”

“You could have gotten yourself killed.” Dean shook his head slightly. “What made you do it?”

“Anything to throw a kink in Lucifer’s plans.” He knew that wasn’t the full reason, though, as much as he wished otherwise. Because if that were all it was, he wouldn’t have cared about helping Sam and Dean save those people; he would have focused on taking Lucifer out of commission first, regardless of how many people died. Hell, if Lucifer had been distracted by the crowd, maybe one of them would have been able to get those cuffs on him, and maybe they would have held, or at least weakened him so that they could inflict some damage. But no, Dean wanted to save the people, and Crowley didn’t have the good sense to let him die doing it.

Dean didn’t look impressed at his reasoning, but he didn’t push it. “Well, I’m grateful. Even more so that we all got out okay.”

All. Even if he was included in that word, it was as an afterthought. He knew that Sam, Castiel, those innocent people back there, those were the ones Dean really cared about getting out okay. So, he simply hummed in acknowledgement and let his eyes slide shut in a hope to end any further conversation. Thankfully, Dean seemed to take the hint and continued on in silence.

The pressure against his wounds hurt, but Dean did his best to be gentle, and Crowley was surprised just how comforting the touch of someone who killed monsters for a living could be. Surely a warrior’s hands weren’t meant to be so soft, so soothing? He found himself beginning to relax, despite the voice in the back of his mind yelling at him to not let his guard down.

“Well, that’s a little better,” Dean muttered eventually. “If you were human, I’d say you need stitches, but…”

“It’d be pointless,” Crowley agreed without opening his eyes.

“I’ll tape it up, instead.”

He returned to laying in silence as Dean applied something to his wounds and then taped up the two worst gashes.

“‘Kay,” Dean said when he was done. “I’m gonna go get you some ice for your eye, then I’ll take care of your back.”

Crowley said nothing as Dean left the room. What was wrong with him? He should _not_ be letting himself enjoy Dean’s attention. It didn’t matter that it felt like he cared; he had proven enough times that he didn’t give a damn about him, had said so just that morning, in fact. He couldn’t let himself fall into the trap of wishful thinking again. He needed to focus on taking his Kingdom back, _not_ on pining after someone he would never have. He had to put a stop to this.

Dean returned within a couple minutes and handed Crowley some ice wrapped in a cloth. He took it and placed it over his eye with a grimace. “Listen, squirrel, I’m sure my back is fine. Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

Dean fixed him with a steady gaze. “What if I want to concern myself with it?”

Crowley looked back with his available eye. “And why would you want to do that?”

“Because you came through for us back there! You got your ass handed to you just so that Sam and I could get those people out of there! And don’t say that it was just to screw with Lucifer, because I know there were better ways to do that. I don’t know why you actually did it, but I suppose it doesn’t matter at this point. The bottom line is, you’re in this state because of us, and I hate seeing you like this, and I want to help, dammit!”

Crowley arched his less-painful eyebrow at Dean’s outburst. Well, that made sense. Dean truly didn’t care about him, this was just the twisted sense of responsibility he had for everything he came into contact with. He wasn’t trying to help for Crowley’s sake, it was so that he would feel better about himself.

“In that case…” Crowley carefully pushed himself up to his feet, so that he was standing mere inches from Dean. “I think I’ll go.”

“What? No. Come on, Crowley, what is it you want from me, here?”

Crowley gave him a wry smile. “More than a sense of duty, at least.” He tried to step around him, but Dean moved to block his path.

“Is that what you think this is?”

“You just said it yourself. I’m in this state because of you.”

“Yes, _and_ I hate seeing you like this because… well, I just do.”

“Well, did you ever think that maybe I hated thinking you were dead?” Crowley snapped.

Dean blinked in surprise. “You… I didn’t think-”

“About me. Yes, I know. Why would you? I’d only just helped you save the world, in addition to all the other times I’ve saved your bacon. But the only time you take notice is when you consider yourself responsible for me getting hurt.”

“Crowley, I had a lot going on. Sam had been taken, and my mom was back, and then she was gone, and then you were hunting with Cas and I figured you already knew. I don’t exactly send out memos when I don’t die.”

That brought Crowley up short. “Your mom’s alive?”

“Yeah. And I was kinda focusing more on that than the fact that I was alive. Is that what you’ve been so grumpy about?”

He looked away, not particularly liking what admitting to that would imply. “I’m grumpy about a lot of things, actually.”

Dean sighed as he took a step over, reaching out to rest his hand on Crowley’s arm. “Can you _please_ just take your shirt off and lay down so that I can take care of you?”

Crowley blinked, the corner of his lips twitching up. Dean processed what he had said just a second later and turned an amusing shade of pink. “Well, when you put it like _that…”_

“Shut up.”

Crowley chuckled as he quickly made a decision that could potentially be either very bad or extremely good (probably the former). But Dean seemed to be claiming that he did care to some degree, and there was an easy way to test if it was enough to start hoping again. Besides, Dean was mildly impressed with his heroic actions of the day, they were standing extremely close, and Dean was even touching him; he doubted he would come by an opportunity as perfect as this again. So, he leaned in and kissed him.

It was just a quick peck to the lips, and then he pulled back to see Dean frozen in shock before him. “Um…” He licked his lips. “What the hell?”

Crowley shrugged. “We were having a moment.”

“How is you yelling at me for not telling you I’m alive and then laughing at me for not watching what I say ‘a moment’?”

He eyed the small space between them and glanced at the hand still on his arm before returning his gaze to Dean’s face. “Well, you’re terrible about mixed signals, so it’s the closest thing to a moment that we were ever going to get. I thought it best to capitalize on the opportunity.”

 _“I’m_ giving _you_ mixed signals?”

“Yes!”

“Well, excuse me for not knowing how to react when I think I might be falling for a freakin’ _demon!”_ He screwed up his face in horror as soon as the words left his mouth. “Shit.”

Crowley’s eyes went wide. “Well… thanks for clearing that up.” He reached up with one hand and pulled Dean down for another kiss, while the other hand moved the ice pack away from his eye. His face hurt too much for him to kiss him the way he wanted to, but he moved his lips softly against the hunter’s, and after a second’s hesitation, the kiss was returned. Crowley didn’t have any desire to pull away, but his reflexes got the best of him when Dean applied a tad too much pressure to the split in his lip. “Ow.”

“Sorry.”

Crowley smiled. “Given the circumstances, I am completely okay with it.” He lifted the ice pack back up to his eye and set to attempting to unbutton his shirt one-handedly, suddenly feeling much more cooperative.

“Let me help,” Dean offered, and Crowley moved his hand out of the way to give him access.

“First kiss, and you’re already taking my clothes off,” he commented as he watched Dean unbutton his shirt. “Don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me, love. That’s not what I’m all about.”

Dean glanced up at his face briefly, then back down to the skin he was exposing. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, with most people, yes. Not you.”

“You know I’m not going to fall for a line, right?” He finished with the last button and straightened up, still avoiding looking directly at Crowley.

“It’s not a line. It’s not easy being a demon falling for a hunter, either, you know.”

His gaze snapped back to his. “You’re serious?”

“Completely.” He held Dean’s gaze with his visible eye wide and honest.

Dean nodded. “Okay, then.” He leaned down for another short kiss. “I still need to fix up your back.”

Crowley pushed off his shirt and laid down on his stomach, finding it much easier to relax now that he was fully comfortable giving Dean access to his body. He was pretty sure the majority of the pain on his back was from bruising (actually, he was fairly certain that his back was one huge bruise), but Lucifer had managed to draw blood in a couple of places. Dean gingerly attended to the wounds as he had done to the ones on his face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked after a couple minutes.

“Physically, pretty awful. But other than that, great.”

“How long d’you think it’ll take you to heal?”

“A couple of days, at the least.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to take care of you until then.” He placed a gentle kiss between Crowley’s shoulder blades.

Yes, the demonic healing factor was a plus, but so was being taken care of by Dean Winchester. So maybe being injured had its perks, too.  


End file.
